


Trifles

by katiemariie



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Community: ipod_ovenmitt, Drug Addiction, F/M, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-14
Updated: 2010-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemariie/pseuds/katiemariie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have both lost everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trifles

The bottle haunts her desk drawer. Her first day back (his first day gone) whenever she needs paper clips or some form, it stares at her. She's not particularly brave now, so she lets herself flinch when she gets a peek instead of tossing it out. The latter will let the tiny world of the office know her pain before she's able to let it scab over. It's inevitable. She can't avoid it forever. Everyone will have guessed what happened in a months time when she stays the same and he stays gone.

It was his idea to have keep the bottle at work during the week, so he could remind her take the vitamin everyday after lunch because she was so bad at remembering to take pills, which is why they're in this situation to begin with. She would bring the bottle home every weekend and he would have an alarm set on his phone telling him to remind her. (She wonders if the alarm has gone off since and if he regards it in the same way as she regards the bottle.)

She miscarried on a Tuesday, so the bottle is still sitting in her top drawer when she goes back to work.

She makes some excuse about needing to stay late to catch up on paperwork and they let her be. It's only when she's sure that she's the only one left that she takes the bottle out of her drawer and carries it to the break room. The cleaning staff will empty the garbage can in there later that night. No one will see the telltale sign of her loss. But Ryan's there, standing by the trash can. He flinches when he hears her enter. They stare at each other in silence, almost reflections of one another. Ryan's left hand tightly grips what Pam knows, after working with Meredith for years, is a twelve step chip. He sees the label on her bottle. Pity and understanding. He tosses his chip in the trash and storms out of the office. Something has shifted within her in the last minute because she drops her bottle in the can and chases after him.

When she catches up with him, he's outside the building waiting for his mom's car.

"Ryan," she says.

He turns and for once he has nothing to say.

She wants to tell him she's sorry, but she's heard that word a hundred times in the past week and it hasn't made her feel better at all. "I..."

"I had a year, Pam."

"You'll get it back."

"Jim's an asshole." And that's as close as Ryan Howard has ever gotten to the word "sorry."

"Thanks."

And maybe it's because she's in this damn parking lot where her life has changed before that she walks up to him and takes his face in her hands. "Don't give up." She kisses him because she's a damn fool.

He pulls away. "Pam... I..."

"I know."

"It's not the right time... for..." Anything.

"When'd you grow up, Howard?"

Something flickers in his eyes and in her head she can hear a much angrier Ryan say something like, "When I was snorting coke in the handicapped stall at Poor Richard's," and she can see him there in the white dress shirt he wears to work with sweat on his brow and blood dripping from his nose. She feels his loss in the pit of her stomach. It's real to her now but it's not tangible, it's not a thing she can touch. It's not in an orange bio-hazard bag by her too white bed. It follows him and she can see it. She remembers when she saw all that blood on her thighs and thought this is it. And she sees that in Ryan's slumped shoulders. She's not a doctor; she doesn't know how to save someone's life. She grapples for something she can do to help him.

"Do you- do you need a ride?"

"No, my sponsor's picking me up." He looks down at his watch. "He should be here by now."

"Do you want--" No, not that. Don't be that. This is not a question anymore. "I'll wait with you. Until he gets here."

"Okay."

There's awkwardness because there's always awkwardness. "So, did you see the memo that Angela sent out?"

"Yeah. That was ridiculous."

And that's how it starts. There's no charm to it; they're not high school sweethearts and no one's confessing their undying love in the moonlight. But it works and it's real.


End file.
